SCENE XIII
There must have been a curious magic in the words, "My future wife," for no sooner had he pronounced them than Lord Verney became several inches taller, a distinct span broader and quite unreasonably older. In fact, from boyhood he had stepped to man's estate. He looked down protectingly at the little woman hanging on his arm. The seriousness of responsibility settled upon his brow.
"Ah! Verney," quoth Mr. Stafford, flicking a hot brow, as he dashed in out of the sunshine, powdered with white dust from his walk and still bubbling with laughter. "Ah, Verney, playing butterfly in the golden hours while other fellows toil in the sweat of their brow! Jingo! lad, but you've lit on the very rose of the garden.—Mistress Kitty Bellairs, I kiss your hand."
At this Mistress Kitty felt her future lord's arm press her fingers to his ribs, while he straightened his youthful back.
"Mr. Stafford," began he in solemn tones, "this lady——"
But she, knowing what was coming, interrupted ruthlessly.
"And pray, Mr. Stafford," quoth she, cocking her head at him with those birdlike airs and graces that were as natural to her as to any mincing dove—Mistress Kitty being of those that begin by making eyes in their nurses' arms, before they can speak, and end in a modish lace nightcap for the benefit of the doctor—"and whence may you come so late, and thus heated?"
"Whence?" cried Mr. Stafford, and overcome by the humour of his recollections, roused the solemn echoes of the Pump Room by his jovial laugh. "Ah, you may well ask! from the merriest meeting it has ever been my fate to attend. Oh, the face of him in his chair, between his gout and his temper! And fire-eating Jasper all for bullets; and old Foulks' teeth ready to drop out of his head at the indecorousness of it all!—Spicer, man, aha! hold me up.—Oh, madam," cried Mr. Stafford, wiping tears of ecstasy from his eyes and leaning as unceremoniously against Spicer as if the latter's lank figure were a pilaster specially intended for his support—"oh, madam, I could make you laugh had I the breath left for it."
"Indeed," cried Mistress Kitty, plunging in again, as it became evident to her that Lord Verney, with the gentle obstinacy that was part of his character, was once more preparing to make his nuptial statement. "Mr. Stafford, please speak then, for in sooth it seems to me a vastly long time since I have laughed."
"Gad! you actually make me curious," put in Mr. Stafford's prop.